


Cor Cordium

by philliam



Series: Children of Tragedy [1]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Character Study, Little Dialogue, Mourning, Multi, Multiple Pov, Post canon, Relationship Study, Spoilers, i'M SAD, post-kh3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 22:36:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17989793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philliam/pseuds/philliam
Summary: O heart of hearts, the chalice of love’s fire,Hid round with flowers and all the bounty of bloom;[…]It is not the end of his story, only the beginning, but everyone is too occupied with mourning to notice.-------------------------------Riku misses Sora. He misses Sora so much, it physically hurts him. He misses his easy smiles, the jokes. The reassurance that no matter what mistakes Riku has done, it’s fine. He is a good person, deserved of being a Keyblade Master. He misses how Sora was capable of turning every pain and sadness into something bright. Sora was given the rare gift to make gold out of every pain. A purer blessing doesn’t exist.





	Cor Cordium

**Author's Note:**

> I plan on writing to more oneshots about Vanitas and Roxas and Riku because I love to see them suffer.

  
          _Tell me, Atlus. What is heavier?_  
_The world or its people’s hearts?_

  
  
          Sora remembers the phantom feeling of sand under his palms, warm little crystals pressing into his skin. He can’t tell if this is really a memory or just a wish. Lately, it’s been difficult to tell them apart, their lines blurring together. Or maybe since he arrived _Here,_ it’s never been obvious from the start, and he’s just clinging to shadows dancing in the back of his mind. He is floating. Or at least he thinks he is. A strange sensation tingles through his body, it feels like thousand ants are crawling on his skin, and yet he knows that his body isn’t really here. Wherever _Here_ is. Sora is passably conscious, not asleep but not quite awake either.

Darkness surrounds him. He can’t see it— it’s more of a feeling, a gentle brush of air against his mind, but it doesn’t scare him. This darkness isn’t the end, it isn’t the beginning either. It is nothing, this blank space between existing and disappearing, and somehow Sora managed to get caught in there. How is he supposed to explain _that_ to Kairi and Riku? And just like that, the warm feeling dissipates, and Sora thinks of his life and his friends, and how both are so closely linked together. One cannot exist without the other. But with each passing moment, Sora feels bits and pieces of him crumbling into dust, scattering like sand swirled by a breeze on a warm summer day.

Sora is alone. He is cold. He is _afraid._ He is dimly aware of pain, but mostly of a tremendous fatigue, as if he has been covered in layer upon layer of impossibly heavy blankets. It takes a moment for him to realise the wet drops on his face are his own tears, and he curls into a small ball, clinging to himself. He would give anything to see his friends again.

Minutes, hours pass. Maybe only seconds. Time is a foreign concept, a construct not applicable to Sora any more. Oblivion is grey, it eats at Sora’s mind, at his heart, and he wants to fight it because they can take anything from him but his heart; his heart, a place for so many lives; a prison? A fortress filled with light of hopes and promises he’ll never be able to keep. Maybe now he is paying for the sins he doesn’t remember, for the dreams he’s failed to fulfil, hunting him like hungry beasts with sharp claws.

He’s always known that his most powerful trait was his heart, and so in the end it was only natural that it would be his demise as well. _O heart of hearts, beloved of all beloveds_ is a line from somewhere Sora can’t remember, but he feels it quite fits. He is the core of a small universe in which everyone stretches their hands out to touch him, to take something from him— and Sora wants to give, to give so much that in the end nothing will be left of him. Somehow he thinks that is quite alright, for he is the heart of hearts.

 

☆ ☆ ☆

 

When Sora disappears, Roxas bolts awake from a restless sleep, tears blurring his vision and burning like acid on his cheeks. He isn’t just crying; Roxas is _wheezing,_ sobbing as his heart breaks, and he realises Sora is gone. He can’t breathe. It feels like something vital is missing— a limb or a sense, and he wonders if this is how Ventus is feeling all the time since Vanitas’ disappearance. He doesn’t hear Axel’s worried voice calling his name over and over again; he doesn’t feel his long, heavy arms around his waist. Roxas only feels this boiling, parching anger at Riku, because out of all people, he must have known what was coming. And he let Sora go.

Roxas jumps out of bed, long legs tangled in the sheets, and lands face first on the carpet. His cheek burns from the friction, but the pain is nothing compared to what is raging inside his chest. Ever since he’s become his own person, everything has become a little too much. He remembers his first week back in Twilight Town. When he saw Hayner, Pence and Olette, Roxas was so overwhelmed he thought for a moment he would die because beside all the happiness swelling inside his chest, there was also some sense of immense grief. He mourned for the hours spent without them; he mourned for the person he could have been if he’d been a normal boy, his own person from the very beginning, and he mourned for all the stories and adventures he’s missed because of that.

And yet, he’s never felt anything like this— not when Xion crumbled into little shards of light in his arms, not when he learnt he’d have to disappear because he didn’t exist in the first place. Roxas has had a front row view to many dire times in his life when happiness was a foreign word he couldn’t explain. But this is something else entirely, something so overwhelming that Roxas is afraid; he’s one raw nerve, burning and sensible to any kind of contact. He’s unsure what exactly he tells Axel, but it’s effective because he helps dressing Roxas, and they’re immediately off to Destiny Islands where they are greeted by the sun blasting down on them. Roxas shields his eyes, scanning the beach for a flash of silver hair. He knows this place like the back of his hand even though he’s only been here once after their victory over the Seekers of Darkness. But every place Sora has visited is engraved in the back of Roxas’ closed eyes, familiar and a second home to his heart.

“Maybe no one’s home,” Axel says somewhere behind him. He’s looking out at the sea, watches as the waves curl on the white sand. The sun reflecting on the clear water draws bright shapes on his face, catching in his radiant, green eyes.

“No. He’s here,” Roxas says with a solid certainty, for Destiny Island was always and will always be the place connecting everything. It’s the knot where all strings come together, where each destiny is carved in some way.

They follow faint footsteps left on the beach, when Roxas notices movement in the corner of his eye. Near the seaside shack, he can see two figures close to each other, but the voices drown in the sound of ocean waves. Roxas speeds up, and when Riku turns, eyes wide and red-rimmed, Roxas doesn’t think twice. His fist connects with Riku’s jaw and hot pain explodes in Roxas’ hand. It’s enough to send Riku to the ground. Roxas follows him.

“You knew!” he screams, swinging at Riku for a second time. “You _fucking_ knew, and you let him go anyway?!”

Distantly, he hears Axel calling his name, but Roxas ignores him. He’s very adamant on punching his fist through Riku’s face who puts insult to injury and doesn’t fight back. It only confirms Roxas’ suspicion: Riku knew he’d come for him. It does nothing to diminish Roxas’ anger.

“Give me one damn reason why I shouldn’t drop you in the darkest pit I can find,” he hisses, grabbing Riku’s collar. Blood runs from his nose over his mouth and chin, but Riku only blinks. The tip of his tongue darts out to clean it from his lips. When he doesn’t answer, Roxas begins to shake him. “Why didn’t you tell us? Why didn’t you tell _me_?” Someone grabs Roxas’ shoulder, pulling him back, but with more vigour than before, Roxas pulls himself free, and lands another good hit in Riku’s face. “Why didn’t you _stop_ him?” Too many thoughts race in his mind, and he can’t grasp any of them; they slip like sand through his fingers. Finally Axel, that traitor, pulls Roxas off, and Roxas fights with flailing arms and legs. His elbow finds its way in Axel’s side, winning Roxas an opening. He bolts for Riku, stumbling and shaking uncontrollably.

“How could you?!” Roxas’ voice breaks. He’s grabbing again for Riku’s collar, but his hands betray him as well and search for purchase on his jacket, begging to have a grip on something solid, something that won’t disappear like Sora. “Riku, how could you? Don’t just stare at me, say something. _Say something, Riku_!”

He’s still met with silence that is so loud it drives him insane, and Roxas doesn’t know what else to do; what else will make Riku talk and explain.

Someone tugs on the hem of his west, and Roxas feels Oathkeeper and Oblivion seconds away from finding their way into his hands, ready to cut through anyone trying to stop him from unleashing another wave of fury. But when he sees it’s Kairi holding onto him, that rage dissipates, and makes way for a different feeling he is far more scared of: grief. Seeing Kairi standing in front of him only confirms this reality Roxas refuses to accept. He wants to beg her to let him go, to stop looking at him with those big, teary eyes so similar to Sora’s. Instead he collapses in front of her, and wails a small, painful sound so inhuman it tears through his own ears. Roxas cries.

She can’t take away that anger from him because without it he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to feel, and feeling itself becomes _too_ much. He knows there is an emptiness waiting for him after all of this, and he’s too afraid to face it.

Riku’s hand curls around his arm, and then he is kneeling beside Roxas, leaning his forehead against Roxas’ shoulder. Roxas feels more than he hears the sob rolling through his body, and he wants to push Riku away, but he can’t bring himself to do it. He’s cried himself tired already. Hours pass as they stay like this, holding hands and weeping with rasping sobs, as if trying to force air into lungs crushed by grief, until Roxas passes out at some point.

The next time he wakes up it’s with less tears, but grief is still a cold hook sitting deep under his skin. His face hurts, but no matter how much he splashes cool water on it, the swelling around his eyes doesn’t go away. He finds Axel outside sitting on the big trunk facing the setting sun. Kairi is beside him with eyes fixed on the red horizon, unblinking. Roxas has noticed it before. Since their arrival, Kairi hasn’t said anything.

“Roxas.” Riku is standing behind him, and Roxas catches the fruit thrown at him with little elegance. Riku’s face looks awful. A dark, ugly bruise colours his right eye purple, rivalled by another one forming on his left, swollen cheek. He’s too smart to ask if Roxas is okay, so instead he settles on a wordless observation. Roxas ignores him. He feels too vulnerable and exposed in front of those keen, cyan eyes. The fruit explodes with a sweet taste in his mouth, reminding Roxas of how much he loves this place. He’s adopted it from Sora; that and many other little traits he still has to sort out who they belong to. Knowing this place will never be the same without Sora opens up a new, fresh wound Roxas knows no Cura or potion is able to heal.

“What’s the plan?” he asks, wiping his fingers on his pants. When Riku doesn’t answer immediately, Roxas’ fist burns with the need to punch him again. “You _do_ have a plan, don’t you?” he presses further, feeling his irritation grow.

Eventually, Riku drags a hand over his face, and sighs. “We’ll talk to Mickey. And Master Yen Sid,” he says, avoiding Roxas’ eyes. “Hopefully one of them knows something.”

“That’s it?” Roxas _barely_ manages to contain his anger from sipping into his voice. “You just _hope_ they know something?”

“They’ve always helped us, so yes.” Blatant challenge flashes in Riku’s eyes when he finally meets Roxas’. “We will go and see them.”

A muscle twitches in Roxas’ jaw. “I don’t remember them doing anything to help me, so maybe revaluate who you’re going to ask for help.”

Riku gives him a sharp glare. “Careful.”

But Roxas has had his fair share of depending on old guys who used him for whatever ulterior motive they had, and frankly he can do without it. “Sora needs us now. You can sit around if you want, but I’m going to look for him.”

He’s almost down the gangplank when Riku calls after him. “And where do you think you’re going? You think visiting world after world will bring you closer to find him?”

Roxas exhales audibly, and wills himself not to turn around, but he’s always been bad at containing all the rage that’s accumulated over the past years. It is this anger that has always set him apart from Sora; that hate towards people who hurt him always drew the clear line between them. This simple black and white was easy to grasp and understand, and even easier to identify with until Sora plunged Roxas’ world into vibrant colours and complex structures, and brought with him so many people Roxas didn’t know and yet meant so much to him. He hates how this even applies to Riku, despite this envy, a churning black storm hidden in his chest. Riku and Sora are inseparable, and Roxas loathes it.

The only comfort lies in _how_ he loves Sora, for Roxas has loved Sora in a way only Ventus and Xion _might_ understand; in a way that is so unfair to Axel who’s trying his best to become everything for Roxas. But Roxas doesn’t want this. He wants Sora. He wants the world, the heart knowing every part of him. His home. Roxas remembers when he returned to Sora. Trying to do the right even though he knew it would mean his end, but once he found peace within Sora, Roxas understood the meaning of home, and the meaning of people’s destinies intertwining.

“If aimlessly searching for Sora will eventually lead to find him, then yes.” Roxas says, voice lacking any heat he’d hoped would burn Riku. Instead a strange resignation shackles every breath in his lungs, and he knows he will only be free when he finds Sora. “I will visit world after world, until the end if I have to.”

Riku drags his eyes from Kairi and Axel back to Roxas, and considers him for a moment in which Roxas tries to see himself through Riku’s perspective— the boy with Sora’s eyes; the Nobody who long ago took something important from Sora, the little piece necessary to complete something far bigger than all of them. A small sighs escapes his lips, and somewhere in there Roxas hears the unspoken _You’re just as reckless as Sora_. When he closes the distance between them, all muscles in Roxas tense with intuitive caution he can’t get rid of, no matter how often he’s seen Riku by now.

“I want to get him back more than anything else,” Riku says, and in that small moment Roxas sees his vulnerability for the first time. Something tightens in Roxas’ chest, and he takes a step away from Riku. “It’s been only a couple of hours since Kairi returned. And still, I already see him in everything, and I try to be kind to everything because maybe …” His voice tears on the last word, a ragged note of grief like ripped paper. Riku turns his head away from Roxas, but he doesn’t miss how Riku’s lips close into a tight line. “Stumbling through world after world might end up losing him even more,” he finishes. His calm mask is back, and Roxas just can’t understand how Riku is capable of that.

“That didn’t stop Sora from looking for you and Kairi,” Roxas throws back, chin raised stubbornly.

“No, it didn’t.” Riku looks back at Kairi, and that’s when Roxas understands that he’s searching for the right words to tell her that he will leave the Island.

“Then forget your pride for a second,” Roxas says. “And let us help.”

Riku looks like he wants to say something, but then he just gives Roxas a little, tight-lipped smile, and turns to join Kairi up on the trunk. Roxas stares holes into his back. He’ll never understand what Sora sees in him.

He retreats to the shore until cool water sloshes against his feet. A biting cold settles over Roxas, but he knows that doesn’t come from the ocean. Sora has always said how it is a part of the human experience to feel pain, that it is part of a heart, and how it strengthens you, how it connects you, but Roxas dully registers he’d rather have it ripped out of him if it means he’s spared the missing and longing. When he lowers his gaze unto the water, his reflection stares back at him, showing a pale face and golden hair sticking to all sides. His radiant eyes are a beacon, the colour of the sky. A sharp throb drives like a spear through Roxas’ ribs. _Everything hurts_ , he thinks and waits a moment, but his only companion is silence. Sora was a mirror to Roxas, like Ventus to Vanitas. When Roxas said, _everything hurts,_ Sora whispered, _but everything can heal._ He’s learnt from Sora that hate is a lazy thing, heavy, a burden; but not as heavy or difficult as love so many carry around but are unwilling to practice. Roxas will try better. It’s the least he can do to pay for everything Sora did for him.

Under the water’s surface he spies a Thalassa Shell. Roxas picks it up, and hopes Xion is doing okay. They will all go and look for Sora, and they will find him. They’ve all deserved their happy end. Standing in the dawn, Roxas vows it on the shell, closing his hand tight around it until the edges cut into his skin.

 

☆ ☆ ☆

 

When Sora disappears, Xion is looking at the vibrant sun setting in an unknown world. She’s sad, but she can’t remember why. A group of teenagers her age tell her someone is looking for her, but she doesn’t know the name. When the tall man with spiky red hair stands in front of her, she asks, “Who are you?”

 

☆ ☆ ☆

 

When Sora disappears, Ventus fears Vanitas is also gone forever. There’s a strange tug in his chest, like his heart knows there is a place he’s supposed to be, and wonders why Ventus doesn’t follow this call. It’s different from when he longed for Aqua and Terra. During his search for them he was constantly followed by this certainty that they’ll be reunited. This is different. This is Ventus closing his eyes to a darkness he knows his keyblade won’t be able to slice through. He’s afraid to fall asleep, the only place where he’s had at least a small connection to Vanitas. If that is gone as well, Ventus would rather not wake up at all. It hurts even more since their return to the Land of Departure because Ventus expected only good things to happen from that point on, admittedly now a naive hope quickly quenched by Sora’s fate.

Ventus is sitting on his bed, a heavy blanket around his shoulders. Thousand stars twinkle above him like tears, and he wonders if the other worlds feel that Sora is gone as well. He wonders if somewhere Kingdom Hearts is crying, having lost such a pure, eminent light. Out of his window he can see the training grounds. In a couple of months, they could be occupied my apprentice keyblade wielders again. Aqua has shown her determination to become the steward and rekindle the original purpose of the castle, and both Terra and Ventus are as eager to help her; Terra even more so. He’s adamant to repent, ignoring Aqua’s and Ventus’ claim that his return is enough. But Terra had shaken his head at that. “It is a debt I will never be able to repay,” he’d said, standing in front of Master Eraqus’ grave. “But I will try. Until my last breath, I will try to set this right.”

It was difficult to explain how none of this had been Terra’s fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. They were victims of a game no one held control over— pieces on a lethal board with cruel rules no one really knew. It’s a wonder they made it out alive, together and unscathed, and still, they paid a price for that happy end, some more than others. Ventus hasn’t heard from Riku and Kairi in a while, but his comfort lies in how Aqua and Terra keep looking at each other. Strangely, now more than ever before Ventus notices how close they are. It is probably true what they say about being separated. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and if Terra and Aqua think he’s too chaste to figure out the meaning behind the dark spots on Aqua’s neck or below Terra’s ears, they underestimate him severely.

Once he’s asked Aqua about them, but she only gave him a little, sheepish smile before pushing a loose strand behind his ear. “You’ll learn soon enough,” she’d said. Terra had avoided his eyes, his hands busy with pulling on his keychain, a habit whenever he’s embarrassed. Ventus had just looked at Aqua with a careful, blank expression, and let her believe that he doesn’t touch himself under his blanket to quiet whispers of boy’s names. Ever since he woke up, and spent time with everyone else, he’s noticed how certain things jump right to his attention like a beacon. Terra’s muscles moving during practice. Hayner’s incredibly beautiful eyes, filled with wonder and excitement. Riku’s smooth, flawless skin. Then again, he’s spend so much time inside Sora’s heart who grew up beside Riku, and for Ventus to develop his attraction to boys was only natural. Ventus doesn’t want to remember when he saw Riku for the first time. Dozens of images from Sora’s fantasies flashed before his eyes, and he kept his distance to Riku, unsure how to handle the emotions. It isn’t something bad, that he knows. His friends would never judge him for liking boys. They all love each other too much for such a trivial think to matter, and why should it? It is love nonetheless, and every single one of them is just as much starving for it as they are ready to give.

And still, Ventus is so insecure, because he always ends up thinking about Vanitas. Vanitas is his mirror, reflecting unspoken pieces of Ventus he himself is afraid to face. If Ventus starts thinking too hard about it, he’ll probably stumble upon answers he wouldn’t even know what to do with. And so he tries to turn away whenever he spies glances of blue turning into intimidating gold, and buries the questions deep into his heart where he hopes they’ll suffocate from the silence.

A soft knock stops Ventus’ thoughts. His body tenses, and he waits for more to come. Instead, Terra’s voice carries through the door. “Ven? Ven, you awake?”

He could lie and pretend he isn’t but after days of locking himself in his room, Ventus started missing his friends. His only fear is that if Terra sees his sketches of Vanitas’ key chain and the logo of the Unversed scribbled on paper, he will take them away and burn them between his fingers like Aqua did. Behind the door, Ventus hears shuffling, and the fear that Terra leaves bolts like a hot spell through him. He sits up, and tells Terra to come in. The door opens with a soft click. Light from the outside hall streams into the room, casting away shadows, and once Ventus sees Terra’s broad shoulders filling the door frame, breathing becomes easier.

“Hey, champ.” Terra gives him a little smile. “Thought you might be hungry.”

Ventus isn’t, but nods anyway, just to see the little hope in Terra’s eyes— the very first sight of progress he and Aqua managed since Ventus’ withdrawal. He makes room on his bed, and turns on the star shaped lamp sitting beside his bed on a narrow table as Terra crosses the room. A plate with fruits, cheese and meat lands between them while Terra takes a seat on the edge, watching Ventus eagerly. Just to make Terra happy, Ventus picks one grape and puts it in his mouth.

“How are you?” Terra asks, much more straightforward than Aqua with her careful, quiet words. Ventus thinks about how he doesn’t want to get up forever. How this feeling weighs on him like an anchor pulling him deeper and deeper into darkness. He thinks about lying, but Ventus never wants to be separated from his family ever again— physically and emotionally, so he settles with a neutral, “I don’t know.”

Terra nods. He leans back on his arms, the skin pulling tight where his muscle tense. Ventus looks away, and stares at the faintly glowing star stickers on his shelf Aqua gave him on his birthday. He wonders if Vanitas ever got a present from Xehanort, and has to bite his lip to conceal a laugh because that is just too ridiculous.

“—us? Hey, Ven?” Fingers pop in front of Ventus’ eyes, making him flinch. “Just where are you with your head?”

A strange smile pulls Terra’s face into an expression Ventus is unfamiliar with. Another pang of guilt settles in his chest, and he misses those times when he understood Terra and Aqua without a word.

“I’m thinking about where Sora is,” Ventus lies. Terra frowns. He must know Ventus isn’t telling the truth but decides to go with it anyway.

“Don’t worry,” he says, stealing a piece of cheese from Ventus’ plate. “We’ll find him. Since Aqua can’t reach Riku or Kairi, they might have left already.”

Ventus hums, but somehow he doesn’t think that’s the case. What Sora, Riku and Kairi have; how they are is much more complicated. Ventus even doubts the word _love_ can grasp what they feel for each other. At times, he’s jealous of that connection, and the next moment he is afraid of it. He’s felt it in Sora’s sacrifice back then for Kairi, and in Aqua’s never ending believe in Terra, and what is love if not an immense power capable of pushing people to their limits and beyond, a weapon justifying any sort of destruction. Tightening his blanket around his shoulders, Ventus dugs his head and shuffles closer to Terra.

“You know, I always keep thinking that maybe … we could have done something,” he confesses. “That if Sora trusted us a little more, he’d asked for our help.”

“Do you really think Sora didn’t trust us?” Terra asks, leaning back until he’s lying next to Ventus, arms crossed behind his head.

“Well, what other explanation is there?” Ventus hates that he sounds like a sulking boy, offended because a friend didn’t ask him to join the playing. But he’d always thought the connection between him and Sora was something special, something untouchable and set into stone. He’s protected Sora just as much as Sora has protected him all those years, and Ventus hasn’t thought of stopping once.

“You don’t really believe that.” The sound of Terra’s little laugh snaps Ventus’ head up. “I know you don’t.”

“Huh?”

“We’re not that different from him, Aqua, you and I. We all love too much, but isn’t that better than to have none of it?”

“So better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all?” Ventus remembers this line from a book in the library he’s read long ago, and back then he didn’t quite understand its meaning. Now, he wonders if love truly is Sora’s greatest fault, but that is hard to understand as well.

Terra sits up, and ruffles Ventus’ hair, just like the old times when everything was simple and clean. It tightens Ventus’ chest, but this time it’s not a bad feeling at all. “You’ve been in there all this time,” he says, pointing at Ventus’ heart. “So you know the answer to that. Now eat up. And think about joining us sometime. Aqua really misses you.”

Ventus nods, and takes another fruit. Terra’s smile widens. When he heads for the door, Ventus summons all his courage. It’s time to stop running.

“Terra,” he calls. Terra stops, and turns around. “You really think we’ll see Sora again one day, right?”

Terra doesn’t hesitate. “Of course. Our destinies are intertwined. And besides, you never stopped believing in bringing me back home. Now it’s my time to light someone’s way.”

“And do you think … I’ll see Vanitas again as well some day?”

That brings Terra’s smile to a full stop. He isn’t happy. Ventus sees it in the way Terra presses his lips into a thin line, and squares his shoulders. He avoids Ventus’ eyes for a split second, a tiny fracture of time in which Ventus stops breathing and waits for the final judgement. Eventually, Terra quickly turns around, checking if someone’s behind him, and Ventus wonders if he’s looking for Aqua.

Quietly, Terra finally says, “If that is what you wish for, then I will do anything I can to help you fulfil it.”

The hot sting behind Ventus’ eyes is a clear indicator for tears waiting to escape, so Ventus quickly hides his face in his blanket, shuddering with a silent sob. Only when he hears the door closing, Ventus dares to look up again. His room is dark, and the glowing stars stick out more after bathing in light, capturing Ventus’ attention. He wonders if Vanitas might like them as well.

Ventus curls into himself and closes his eyes. Into the darkness, he whispers “Vanitas” three times.

But nobody comes.

The missing is the worst. All Ventus wants is to crawl inside Vanitas’ skin and stay there. He wants every piece of him to crush into every piece of Vanitas, and become whole again; to become one. He doesn’t want to keep wondering how everyone just can go on as if Vanitas never existed, not when he to Ventus is the world. His heart is still split, an open door ready for darkness to invest, and yet he knows there will only be one certain shadow his heart will allow entrance.

Ventus blinks through the wall of tears, looking at the stars. He has to focus on Sora first. If he can’t bring him back, then certainly he’ll fail to guide Vanitas home as well. A shooting star splits the heaven in two, burning on its way down. Ventus closes his eyes. In this endless night, he has only one wish: Ventus wishes a shining light will guide Sora through a starless sky, and hopes his journey home will be soft and peaceful.

 

☆ ☆ ☆

 

When Sora disappears, Riku doesn’t cry because he knows once he starts, he won’t be able to stop.

His only comfort is Kairi, though she doesn’t talk, and only spends hours upon hours writing letters to Sora, all starting with _my dearly beloved._ Those lines remind Riku of a bittersweet melody he’s heard in a dream once, each wistful tune pulling at his heartstrings. Back then, it had also felt a lot like a farewell to a story he wasn’t yet part of, and now his chest throbs with a low, persistent rhythm of that song.

But it’s difficult to believe this is the end. Riku is in a strange, blank space between hope and desperation, where it’s hard to look for the light, but also impossible to drown in darkness. Finding home in both, Riku is an unusual dweller cheating through life. He knows it’s more than most people get, and he’s aware of how lucky he is. Maybe that is why the universe decided he’s run out of it now, and Riku thinks how unfair that is. That they live in a universe that doesn’t want them to be together any more. It’s either him gone or Kairi, and now Sora. And so when Roxas and Lea prepared to return to Twilight Town, and Roxas had asked him, “Do you even believe that we’ll find him?” it wasn’t difficult for Riku to be honest. “I believe in a universe that doesn’t care,” he’d said. “And people who do.”

After that, Riku started avoiding Roxas, Ventus and Xion even though it is not what they deserve after everything they’ve been through. But he can’t see them, and _not_ think of Sora with how many of his habits they’ve inherited. Roxas carries all the anger Sora has swallowed throughout the years. Just thinking back to how Roxas had punched him, his thumb tugged into his fist like Sora always did no matter how often Riku tried to correct him, hurts like a sudden light striking his eyes in the dead of the night. Ventus is the source of Sora’s broad grins and gentle smiles, laughing at everything— a blazing sun casting away any shadows. They both know the power hiding in being soft and kind, to love and forgive. Xion is part Sora, part Kairi with her love for everything that is bright. She uses everything she can find as bookmarks: cups, little stones, little replicas of everyone’s key chains. Just like Sora she wants to be close to anyone, her happiness lies in those of others and nourishes her. They all love fruits, they all hate carrots, they all can fall asleep in the most uncomfortable places like a cat that finds home everywhere. Riku would rather gouge his eyes out than see another pair of those exact radiant, blue eyes, and so he sticks around Destiny Island, and takes care of Kairi, while she takes care of him.

They live in a strange dynamic, part symbiotic and part parasitic. Riku tells Kairi stories about Sora both remember fondly, and she pays him with a rare smile that dissipates dark clouds in his heart. But Kairi can never truly tell him what exactly happened when Sora brought her back, and Riku is sure she can read the irritation on his face like an open book. Just seeing her is a reminder that someone is missing, the third party in their strange constellation of two, and yet more than ever before, they stick to each other like two pieces of the same soul dwelling in different bodies.

Riku misses Sora. He misses Sora so much, it physically hurts him. He misses his easy smiles, the jokes. The reassurance that no matter what mistakes Riku has done, it’s fine. He is a good person, deserved of being a Keyblade Master. He misses how Sora was capable of turning every pain and sadness into something bright. Sora was given the rare gift to make gold out of every pain. A purer blessing doesn’t exist. But it’s not only the words Riku misses. He misses Sora’s soft skin, his parched lips mapping Riku’s body. He misses how in Sora’s arms he felt safe and at home, that there was no past, and no future. Just the present with them both as the sole habitants, a population of two and no one else was allowed between them.

Riku remembers their first kiss. It was in the Secret Place and they were 15. It was nothing but a chaste, quick peck, lips briefly brushing against each other, and yet Sora had giggled so helplessly, cheeks red and happy like it was the most powerful experience he’s ever felt. He didn’t hide his smile, he’d always been so willing to share it with everyone. Riku remembers the jealousy he’d felt, how he thought Sora’s willingness to open up to everyone was so unfair. He made it look so easy, so effortless, like he didn’t need to think at all who might deserve his smiles. His heart was an open door, never closed, never locked. They’d kept their relationship a secret, or rather they tried. Kairi knew. She must have felt something going on between them. Riku never dared to underestimate a Princess of Light again, but it was like a noose being lifted from his neck whenever she gave him this soft, knowing smile.

Now he tries to think back to the last time they were alone together without any responsibilities weighing on their shoulders. After defeating Ansem and returning to the Island, Mickey’s letter didn’t leave much time to catch up after the year of their separation, and after that, during their Mark of Mastery exam, Riku was everywhere but beside Sora. Now, Riku tries to ignore the little voice telling him that he’ll never see Sora again because he doesn’t believe it. He _can’t_ believe it. Hope has been his constant companion for the last two years, and he’s grown too fond of it. Leaving it behind means to let go of the only rope of salvation Riku is clinging onto, and no matter how much darkness he’s learnt to embrace, he just knows that he will drown in those dark waves crushing upon him with what he can only describe as loneliness.

But if life is lonely for him, it is far lonelier for Sora. When he tries to imagine in what place he must be now, Riku is quite simply angry. Martyr lies on everyone’s lips, and yet no one dares to speaks it out loud because that would be to acknowledge everyone’s fault. He knows this anger won’t bring him anywhere, but it is just hard to accept a fate that robbed the universe of someone vital to so many people.

Sora loved like few ever could love, with all and everything; unrepentant and with a passion that burned holes in anyone’s doubt. The sea and the sky will never stop holding his ghost: in each wave Riku can hear the wisp of Sora’s laughter, in each cloud he can see the remnants of Sora’s eyes. So whenever he waits until Kairi falls asleep, trying not to dwell too long on the tears hanging on her wet lashes like dew in the morning hours, Riku then returns to his room where he mourns with the moon and the stars, and it is a bittersweet feeling to share this grief with the world.

Five days pass, then six. On the seventh day, when he enters Kairi’s room and doesn’t find her sitting on her bed with a stack of papers resting on her thighs like usual, dread sinks in his stomach and he closes his eyes. If he loses her as well, Riku himself will burn down the Islands and start another war. On her table, Riku finds more scribbles of Sora, Donald and Goofy, all three huddled inside the gummi ship. His fingers shake when he takes the pen and draws Sora’s crown necklace in a corner, just focusing on breathing with each stroke on the paper. When his thoughts start to run in painful circles, Riku pushes the tip hard enough to rip the paper. Trying so hard to stay calm, not to cry, he doesn’t notice door opening behind him, until—

“Riku.”

He freezes. Behind him, Kairi looks at him with worry and something else in her eyes, but Riku doesn’t read further into it, too occupied with reaching her, holding her, _holding her._

Kairi takes one breath, then a second. Her small hands on his back feel so warm, so secure, and Riku allows himself to be weak for a moment in her arms.

“It’s time for us, isn’t it?” Riku starts, and just the approving hum from her draws a shudder from him. “We can’t let him wait any longer.”

“Don’t worry, Riku,” Kairi says, and just like that, the world is tiled back to its original position. “He knows we’re already on our way.”

Riku leans back, his arms still around Kairi, and he is astonished that someone looking so fragile is so much stronger than him. Kairi considers him for a long moment. She takes Riku’s hand and squeezes tightly, leaning her head into his shoulder. Riku understands, and presses his lips to her forehead. “We’ll find him.”

It’s not a promise. It’s an oath.

 

☆ ☆ ☆

 

Sora opens his eyes. His face is wet, everything is wet and cold, and he faintly remembers the phantom feeling of something warm against his palm. He doesn’t remember what it was. When he tries to get up, his body is there, not broken, not hurt but somehow he hurts _inside,_ and he can’t explain what it is. All around him, the artificial lights of a city illuminate the streets, but wherever he looks, shadows wait in the deepest corners to plunge on him. Something on his left palm burns, and when he looks down, numbers blink up to him in an angry red, running down.

Instinctively, Sora closes his hand into a fist, so tight that his nails bite into his skin. His mind is foggy, but there’s a feeling that he needs to be somewhere; that he has to return somewhere he can’t name. The closest thing it reminds him of is home, and he will do anything to return. Sora has to go back, to follow this tugging inside his chest aiming for a place he doesn’t remember, for he is the heart of hearts.

 

  
_Most importantly love_  
_Like it’s the only thing you know how_  
_At the end of the day all this_  
_Means nothing_  
_[…]_  
_Nothing even matters_  
_Except love and human connection_  
_Who you loved_  
_And how deeply you loved them_  
_How you touched the people around you_  
_And how much you gave them_

_— rupi kaur_

 

**Author's Note:**

> i plan on moving out of our students dorms so please, if u can support a broke, dumb student, i'll be in ur debt
> 
> https://ko-fi.com/philliam


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